Oren Nillu is currently sitting on one of the pews, hands clasped before him, head bent in deep concentration. Here's an out of place lot, considering the surroundings. Stumbling into the temple are three men, though it could be more specifically said that only one is stumbling, the smallest of the lot, a reedy looking man with two knives tucked into his belt. The other two work to support him, one particuarly tall and bulky, the other not so noticable aside from his rather lethargic stare and listless manner about him. "It's cold?" asks Tahnin to his two friends, seeming mystified at that.